


Sore Loser

by sinningbreaksthecycletoo



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Begging, Counter Sex, Don't copy to another site, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, stupid idiots cant just say ''i like you''
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:02:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25008907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinningbreaksthecycletoo/pseuds/sinningbreaksthecycletoo
Summary: The Deathslinger emits a low chuckle that reverberates onto Ace’s entire frame, sending a rush of heat through his blood. “I seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not lookin’, gambler,” he growls in his ear, his hands holding his wrists in their place on the counter as he nips at the skin of his neck. “Sometimes, it’s those smitten little glances you give me, but most of the time? It’s the downright lustful looks I catch on your face.”
Relationships: Caleb Quinn | The Deathslinger/Ace Visconti
Comments: 6
Kudos: 143





	Sore Loser

Ace may have quick wit, but the Deathslinger has quicker reflexes, and all it takes is the fraction of a blink before the gambler finds himself pushed against one of the Dead Dawg Saloon’s bar tops with a very angry marksman holding him up by fisting the lapels of his jacket with two very,  _ very  _ strong hands. 

_ “You cheatin’ bastard,”  _ the cowboy hisses, white glowing eyes barely visible between the slits of his narrowed eyelids. Ace stares back at the other with wide eyes, his shades having fallen off when he had been yanked out of his chair at the speed of sound. Their faces are close enough that the man can  _ feel  _ the other’s fury radiating off of the killer like a wave of heat.

It takes a moment for his brain to catch up to him, then another for the words to actually reach him. Instantly, he relaxes, shoulders untensing as he tilts his head at the other and adorns his usual grin. This was familiar territory to him. “Now, now! No need for accusations like that,” he practically coos, all too used to his current predicament from his past life.

All that serves to do is have the other seethe even more. “It ain’t an  _ accusation,  _ it’s a  _ fact,”  _ he corrects furiously, seemingly barely restraining himself from murdering the man in his hands. “Ain’t  _ nobody  _ able to win that many times in a row, and  _ don’t  _ give me no schmuck ‘bout Lady Luck or I’ll shove my gun up your ass.”

Ace actually laughs at that, something he’s unsure was wise to do as the hands holding him against the counter behind him tighten. “That rhymed,” he points out coyly, completely unbothered by the situation. He really shouldn’t be, the Deathslinger has killed him many times before during trials and nothing is stopping him from killing him here and now.

But the two have been slowly becoming… friends, as of recent. It wasn’t uncommon for survivors to get along with their killers, not anymore, and Ace had taken full advantage of that by trying to get the good graces of nearly every beast of the fog immediately. Not many had taken to and he certainly never expected the Deathslinger of all of them to budge, yet here they had been, playing cards and drinking booze that can’t inebriate them once again. 

Dare either of them say they  _ enjoyed  _ each other’s company, but the survivor didn’t need to hear the other say it to know it was true. He isn’t threatened at all at the moment and if his carefree attitude and sing-songy voice didn’t give it away already, surely that smug ass grin on his face must have tipped the cowboy off.

The Deathslinger growls but Ace only chuckles and sets his hands atop the other’s, trying to ease them away from the fabric of his jacket before the unrelenting grip tears it apart. “You should know by now that I don’t cheat, my dear, I’m simply good at what I do. Gambling is an art, and I’m  _ quite  _ the artist,” he tells the other, shooting him a wink. “Don’t be such a  _ sore loser.” _

The Irish American bristles at the words, then snarls. “I’ll show you a  _ sore loser.” _

Once again, Ace felt himself be moved around at unnatural speeds. He couldn’t even properly react to the manhandling in time. In another fraction of a second, the gambler had been spun around and one of his legs was hiked up and thrown onto the counter. The only reason his face doesn’t slam into it is because of his hands settling on it and his arms straightening to keep him upright.

“Wh—Hey! What the hell are you doing?!” He exclaims in surprise, turning his head to the side and trying to look at the man behind him.

He gets a better look than he bargained for as the other sidles up right behind him, so much so Ace could feel the rise and fall of his chest against his back and shiver at the hot breath on his neck.  _ “Say the word and this ends now,” _ he  _ feels  _ the other speak, his lips moving on his skin and setting his nerves alight.

He would play the fool and ask what the other meant but the unmistakable stiffness pressing up against his jeans was… well, unmistakable. The outline of the cowboy’s cock was painfully clear when it's practically glued to his behind the way it is. His mouth is the driest it’s ever been and for once, he finds himself unable to smooth talk his way out of his problem.

Not that he wants to.

There’s many things he wants to ask the man behind him but he swallows and settles on what his mind manages to string together first. “How… How did you…?”

The Deathslinger emits a low chuckle that reverberates onto Ace’s entire frame, sending a rush of heat through his blood. “I seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not lookin’, gambler,” he growls in his ear, his hands holding his wrists in their place on the counter as he nips at the skin of his neck. “Sometimes, it’s those smitten little glances you give me, but most of the time? It’s the downright  _ lustful  _ looks I catch on your face.”

Ace wants to be embarrassed about apparently having been caught eyefucking the other man more than once before but he’s too busy being completely horrified over the first part of his words.  _ Smitten little glances,  _ he’d said. If that meant what Ace thought it meant that there’s no way the other doesn’t know what he thinks he knows. 

As if sensing his distress, the man behind him wraps his arms around his middle and squeezes him rather gently. “We can talk about it later, after,” he offers awkwardly, not at all the smooth talker he seemed to think he was. “But like I said, if you don’t want this, just say the word,  _ Ace.” _

The sound of his name leaving the other’s lips forces an embarrassingly loud groan out of him. “Fucking  _ shit,  _ Caleb.”

It seems to have the same effect on the Deathslinger because he growls again, the sound almost predatory in Ace’s ear. Hands unbuckle his pants and easily slip underneath his briefs, latching onto his betrayingly hard cock. The Argentinian-Italian chokes off his own moan, tucking his chin to his chest as he eyes the tent in his clothes in disbelief. 

The slide of his garments down his thighs is accompanied by a loud thud from behind him. He’s so busy with the hand constantly teasing at the pink head of his now exposed cock that he doesn’t realize he’s completely unaware of everything around himself until it leaves him. And it only does so because his cheeks are suddenly being spread apart.

There’s a moment of nothing but silence and Ace flushes at the fact that the cowboy was no doubt staring at his puckered entrance like a starving man. He sates himself by diving down and pushing his tongue deep into the other without wasting another second, relishing in the gasp of surprise the gambler makes at the action.

Ace’s moans are suddenly languid and unrestrained as he pants for breath. “Caleb! Holy shit!” He exclaims, barely able to keep himself upright as it was. The Deathslinger chuckles against him, another sound he feels rather than hears, and it makes him let out a helpless whimper as his limbs begin to quake.

The wriggling appendage inside him is absolutely unforgiving, exploring every centimeter of his insides as though it had been dying to do so for years. The thought brings about a strange feeling in Ace’s chest, one that promptly leaves him just as the tongue inside him does the same. There’s several final lapping licks at his slobered up hole before Caleb leaves it entirely and stands up behind him.

“Now, you’ve got one of two choices,” he tells him, hands circling his waist and playing with his precome slathered cock. “One, you could give me a minute to go get some oil to fuck you proper while you wait here like a good boy,” he says, giving the member a particularly rough tug as he raises one of his hands to Ace’s face and continues. “Or two, you could suck on my fingers and get them nice and wet for me instead.”

He receives a high pitched whine in return and chuckles, though waits patiently for the other’s actual reply. Ace audibly gulps for a moment, then silently opens his mouth and slowly leans forward, capturing the markman’s fingers between his lips and beginning to lather them with his saliva as he was told to.

Ace can feel the other rutting against his bare ass almost desperately, his hard-on even more prominent than it was before they’d gotten started. His ministrations seem to be a bit too erotic for the other to endure for too long because the fingers are being snatched away from him with an obscene pop, then they’re gone out of his field of view.

He doesn’t get a warning before two of them breach his entrance. He yelps, arching his back in surprise and involuntarily tensing at the intrusion. Caleb’s other free hand continues to lazily stroke his dripping cock, shushing him gently and murmuring for him to relax. When he eventually does, the fingers go further, until they’re as far as they can do.

Just the hunter’s fingers inside him are enough to make Ace feel like he’s about to blow and it doesn’t look like it’s gone unnoticed by the other. “You really feelin’ that good already?” He teases, though there’s a small part of him that sounds genuinely surprised at the other. Almost like he didn’t think Ace would like this as much as he was.

Not having that at all, the shorter man pushes back against the fingers and lets out a purposely overdrawn moan, side eyeing the man behind him and whimpering with want. He hears the other’s sharp intake of breath before he’s being shifted slightly, and that’s the only warning he gets before the fingers begin to piston in and out of him at a ruthless pace.

_ “Ah! Ah, ah,  _ oh my  _ God!”  _ Ace cries out, wholly unprepared for just how eager the man behind him really was. In a matter of seconds his prostate is found and his cries significantly jump in volume as he clings to the sides of the countertop for dear life.  _ “Caleb! _ C-Caleb— o-oh  _ fuck!  _ Oh God, I-I’m gonna—! Caleb, I—  _ I’m gonna—!” _

The Deathslinger grins against his skin and then bites down  _ hard  _ at the exact same time he pushes a third finger into the poor unsuspecting gambler. Ace lets out a shout and, much to his complete chagrin, finds himself spilling all over the counter, the floor, his clothes, and Caleb’s hand as he comes despite himself.

He’s still coming down from his high when Caleb’s motions slow down and the bites on his shoulder turn to gentle presses of his lips, almost like he was soothing the skin he irritated there. Ever so abruptly does the marksman pull away entirely with a whisper of  _ “sit tight”  _ in his ear and Ace can safely say he had never felt so  _ exposed  _ in his entire life.

His sweaty hands betray him and he slumps onto the bartop, and doesn’t bother to get up. Resting his forehead onto his arms, he closes his eyes and huffs, desperately trying to even out his inhales and exhales to the best of his abilities.

Except he doesn’t even get the chance to do that because there’s fingers inside him again, only slicker than before. He gasps in surprise, then flushes at the snicker that comes from behind him. “Sorry for startlin’ you, sweetheart,” Caleb casually says, “I was gettin’ the oil. I don’t wanna hurt you.” Ace ignores the way his stomach flips in over itself at the admission.

He starts to whine when the phalanges leave him again, only to be silenced mid-whine by the press of the very hot and oil-covered head of Caleb’s cock. “Ready?” The Deathslinger drawls from behind him, to which Ace continues his cut-off whine and pushes back against the cock as desperately as his tired body can convey.

Caleb laughs at him again then hooks his arms underneath the gambler’s, pulling him to his chest and simultaneously pushing his cock inside him. Ace chokes on his own moans again, eyes shutting tight as the cock breaches him. Everytime he thinks it’s over the length goes further and further and  _ further. _

_ “Caleb,”  _ is all he can say, brows furrowed and chest impossibly tight. The other man hums at him then settles his hips against his ass, signaling the end of the impossible length.  _ “Fuck,”  _ Ace eloquently adds, subconsciously lulling his head to the side and exposing his neck to the cowboy, seemingly waiting for something.

The other wastes no time growling and latching onto the new patches of skin, teeth teetering on the edge of drawing blood but not quite going so far. The most he did was leave unforgiving bruises, ones Ace was absolutely going to marvel at before the Entity takes them away from him, as it does with injuries.

The snap of the Deathslinger’s hips startles a cry out of him, one he gets no apology for this time around. If he had thought Caleb’s fingers were going a brutal pace, the speed of his actual pounding was downright merciless. All Ace could really do was throw his head back and helplessly yell up at the saloon’s wooden ceiling.

It doesn’t take long for that coil in his gut to cut loose again and he screams, clawing at Caleb’s arms as another orgasm is ripped out of him. Caleb fucks him through it, thrusting into him with just as much vigor as he had when he began, if not more. 

While the other doesn’t seem to tire, Ace was already drooping forward, exhaustion overtaking him. But Caleb growls and gives a harsh thrust, hugging Ace back into himself almost possessively.  _ “I’m not done with you yet,”  _ he hisses at him, still sliding his cock back and forth though the man’s quivering walls.

_ “Caleb,”  _ Ace says again, though it’s weaker now, sounding less like a pleased whimper and more like a pained mewl. He begins to fidget slightly, restlessly trying to set his feet onto the ground as he gasps. “C-Caleb, f-fuck, please,” he stammers, knuckles turning white from his grip on the bartops. “Fuck,  _ fuck,  _ please, p-please,  _ a minute.  _ Just a minute,  _ just a minute, please, _ just...”

“Alright, easy, easy,” Caleb settles, his thrusts slowing down despite his entire body burning angrily at the action. “I’ve got you, Ace. Easy.”

The gambler finally,  _ finally  _ gets a breather, eyes still closed, everything feeling far too much for him to bear. He trembles almost concerningly, every nerve overstimulated beyond anything he ever thought he could feel again, not after coming to this place.

But Caleb holds him through it, and that’s all he needs.

“Turn me around,” he demands weakly, his voice raspy and foreign to him. He manages to catch the look of surprise on the Deathslinger’s face as the other complies, pulling out of him for just enough time to gently spin him as requested, remove his pants and briefs from him, and prop him up onto the bar. Instinctively, Ace’s legs wrap around the other’s waist, but then he pauses.

He doesn’t want to scare the other away with any sudden moves, but he’s a gambler, so he gambles. He tentatively wraps his arms around Caleb’s shoulders and watches the other stare back at him in wonder. “Okay,” he murmurs to him, nodding without once breaking eye contact. “Go ahead.”

For a second, Caleb doesn’t. He stares at Ace like he was a puzzle he couldn’t understand, crooked jaw hanging low in surprise. Then he simply nods back and buries his nose in the crook of the smaller man’s very bruised neck. Ace blinks for a moment, unmoving as he feels the other’s hands slide under his thighs then grip him, pulling him closer.

He fucks into him again, but it’s much slower this time. It’s by no means soft, he’s still going to town on his ass, but it’s less… desperate. Less trying to prove something that didn’t need proving. Ace finds his eyes watering by the end of it and completely blames the overstimulation as Caleb comes inside him with a guttural howl.

Then it’s just them holding each other there as they recollect their thoughts and breaths. Caleb recovers much faster than Ace, pulling him closer and wrapping his arms around his waist. Ace opens his mouth to ask him something but he’s suddenly being lifted, shutting him up as he’s taken up the saloon’s stairs. 

He feels a soft mattress underneath him when Caleb sets him down and he blinks again. He suppresses a chuckle at the fact that they fucked at the bars when there was a perfectly good bed a few steps away from them and slowly strips himself of his jacket and shirt, feeling strange only being half-naked from the waist down.

Caleb helps him do it, and he lets him, for once in his life hesitant on saying something, lest it be the wrong thing to say. “Rest,” Caleb says instead, though it’s almost something to fill the silence more than anything.

As the Deathslinger pushes him back onto the bed and lifts the covers over him, Ace’s heart seizes for a moment. “I thought we were gonna talk?”

Caleb swallows and nods. “We will,” he reassures, but doesn’t add anything after that. Ace understands, though, from the look in his eyes alone. He wasn’t the only one that came out of this overwhelmed. The other most likely needed a moment to himself and Ace wasn’t about to deny him that.

Then, so fast Ace  _ almost  _ misses it, the marksman presses a fleeting kiss to his hairline. His heart jumps to his throat and  _ God _ he really,  _ really  _ wants to grab the man and yank him down into the most passionate liplock he’ll ever have, but he knows better than to rush the other that way, so he wills the urge down and instead beams at the other happily to show his appreciation.

Caleb looks away from him and Ace swears he sees some color rising to his otherwise unnaturally pale face. The other moves to leave the room but he stops with his hand on the doorknob and pointedly looks to the ground. 

“I know you weren’t,” he says suddenly.

Ace tilts his head in confusion. “Wasn’t what?”

“Cheatin’,” Caleb answers, then immediately exits the room and shuts the door behind him.

The gambler stares at where he once stood. As the implication behind the confession slowly dawns on him, he grins.

He may be sore, but he’s not quite sure about the loser part.

**Author's Note:**

> caleb: i need a way to tell this guy i like him back without actually having to say it
> 
> me, enthusiastically chanting from where im about to be hung at glenvale's gallows: porn! porn! porn!


End file.
